


The Volatiles

by HeavenlyHunny



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Kitlaf, Olaf and Kit have kids, a lot of OCs - Freeform, kit and Olaf is my otp because obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenlyHunny/pseuds/HeavenlyHunny
Summary: “The only thing worse than being on the opposite side, is being in the middle” Beatrice explained....AU where Violet and Klaus Baudelaire find themselves having to solve a series of murders going on within VFD. Being the newbies in the organization turns out to be more difficult than even they can handle as they are forced to team up with an unlikely group. What’s worse is the secrets they uncover as they find clues as to who the murderer is.......





	1. Good Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I ended up writing this for a school assignment and I liked it so I’ll post it up here

The multicolored lights of the Benabar Bar could be seen flickering through the bottom of the door. The Volunteers were all huddled tight into one room, in the bar’s hidden section, which they were forced to use for meeting in secret. There were not many safe places left that hadn’t been burned down or discovered by the Villains. The battle between the two sides had been going on for decades, but it seemed as though, recently, its pace seemed to be speeding up, however, not in their favor. VFD had once been one large empire who had vowed to protect and honor its citizens. The organization had owned their own schools, police stations, churches, and, most famously, a fire department. But it was the schism that caused it to all fall apart. A small fight between two sisters, who were the daughters of the founders of VFD, had evolved into a full fledged argument that had torn the Volunteer Fire Department into two relentless sides. The Villains that start the fires and the Volunteers who had to put them out. Both sides would stop and nothing to defeat the other. The Volunteers tried to put a stop to the Villains reign of terror, but ultimately failed most of the time. The Villains were crafty, and they sure weren’t a bunch of idiots. Their level of charm and ability to worm their way around the law was a big factor in why they were, currently, triumphing over the Volunteers. Their strategy had been to destroy as many safe houses as they could, so the Volunteers would have nowhere to plan how to defeat them. Which left the Volunteers in places like they were now, shoulder to shoulder in an abandoned office space in the back of a bar.   
The meetings they held rotated, in and out each month, who was scheduled to lead them. Lolita Lionne, the leader for this week, grabbed her wine glass and clinked her spoon to on its side.   
“I hereby call this meeting to order, everyone did attend our urgent meeting on Tuesday as well, correct?”   
All the hands in the room went up, except for one.  
“Ah that’s wonderful, it’s good to know that everyone could come, except for you Wilson. Always be on the alert when we send out invitations. Whether they’re planned or not, we expect everyone to be present.”  
Wilson’s, the man in question, face could not be seen as it was hidden behind his oddly large bowler hat. Lolita was about to go into their business for the week when a tall, brunette woman stood up with her own wine glass in hand. Her smile was wide and inviting.   
“Well, before we start, I think we should toast our wonderful Mrs. Kit Snicket, since she took care of everyone taxes by herself this year,” the woman, whose name was Beatrice, announced.  
Everyone in the room held up their glasses and toasted, some even handing Kit some white roses, which she accepted with her wide faux grin. Beatrice hadn’t mentioned the fact that everyone had, pretty much, forced Kit to do all that calculating on her own.  
The Snickets were the grandchildren of two of the founders of the VFD. Over the years, the Snickets had accumulated a fortune from the donations given to them by other VFD recruits, which they used to keep the organization up and running. Everyone loved and adored them. They worshiped them like gods, and now they had entrusted them with the entire future of the Volunteers. Everyone adored the three remaining heirs. The Snicket siblings had, also, been the inspiration for the odd variations of names that seemed to now be a tradition for all the Redder members. Jacques and Lemony, the two brothers, were important writers and researchers to the Volunteers, and they were often the leaders of many of their expeditions. But most of all, they loved Kit, the sister. As the saying went among them, “every wants a little piece of Kit Snicket”. She was idolized as the perfect lady, perfect leader, perfect everything. Every Volunteer building was flooded with pictures of her likeness. And, whether she wanted to be or not, she was the true leader and face of the Volunteers.   
“Here's to the Snickets!” a voice from the crowd called  
“Especially you, Ms. Snicket!” another one exclaimed.   
Kit smiled at her little minions. She would always tell them that, “as long they were taking little pieces of her, she was also taking little pieces of them”. They just loved her sense of humor.   
And Kit loved how gullible they were. Sweet little lambs living in euphoria with no knowledge of the wolf that waited just outside the fence, ready to pounce and devour them all. She knew that, when the day came, the wolf would attack and she'd be watching humorously as it tore their flesh up for its meal, blood seeping through its teeth. Oh, how she hated each and every one of them. Their undying love for and devotion to her made her sick to her stomach. She hated the meetings even more, each filled with more and more false prophecies of nobility and non-violence. It was meetings like this where all she wished for was to be at home with her husband.

Despite it being Lolita’s scheduled day to run the meeting, Beatrice reached for the black case that sat on the table and began to speak. 

“Now as you all know, the world is becoming more and more dangerous every day. A series of murders has been occurring lately, and the Villains have destroyed over half of our safe buildings, leaving us with few places to meet in secret.”

Mumbles of agreement circled around the room.

“Not that I have to remind anyone, since this war between sides has been occurring for decades now, but anyone found with ties to the Villains, and especially the Evenings, is untrustworthy.”

Kit scowled at her.

The Evenings were the most dangerous family that existed within the Villains. Before VFD had split up, the Evening family had been the main influx of crime within the city, and after the two sides split, the Villains quickly joined forces with them so as to gain power. There was no one that the Volunteers hated more than the Evenings.   
Beatrice cleared her throat, pretending not to see Kit’s glare towards her, and continued her speech.

“I know we all do have those we used to consider friends who, sadly, have defected over to the other side. But I must remind you that we can't afford to risk any association with them. Therefore, anyone found with ties to them will also be declared untrustworthy.”  
The members in the room nodded and began inspecting those around them, looking around with general mistrust. Some glancing nervously, and knowingly, over at Kit.   
Kit closed her eyes, tilting her head up towards the ceiling. Her lips began to move ever so slightly, and she smiled. She was mouthing words, telepathically conversing with someone who wasn’t in the room. Beatrice saw this and was nervous, knowing she’d have to speak quickly.  
“But enough of the negativity for today,” Beatrice suddenly began to whisper, “What if I were to tell you that we now possess a file, that has enough evidence within it, to send any and every Villain to prison for life.”   
Gasps were heard throughout the room, and excited and intrigued voices echoed.  
Beatrice reached and opened the black case that was sitting on the table. She removed a smooth manila folder that appeared to have hundreds of papers inside. Everyone began cheering as Beatrice held it up victoriously  
“Now, it is important that we keep this file hidden. It is a collection of all the evidence we have that could convict them of their crimes. Some of these documents are irreplaceable and cannot be recovered, so it is important that we don’t let this fall into the wrong hands.”  
Beatrice opened her mouth to respond just as Kit opened her eyes. A large flash of lightning was seen outside and the lights in the room went out. Panic ensued for a moment as the members began grabbing onto each other in fear. After moments of darkness, a light shown within the room. Kit was glowing, her smooth skin lighting up  
“Oh Kit, you always come to our rescue when we need you!” a woman said dreamily as she smiled up at their leader.  
“Of course my love,” Kit said, smiling the sweetest smile she could muster up, which, those who weren’t blinded by their admiration for her, could sense had a not-so-hidden maliciousness within it.  
A scream was heard from within the main section of the bar and a dark, suffocating smug began seeping its way through the door.  
“FIRE!”   
People pushed and shoved their way out of the back door. A chorus of coughs could be heard as they all stumbled out to the alley.  
Beatrice brushed her hair out of her eyes and frowned as she saw many of the younger women going up to hug Kit.   
Everyone seemed to be coming down from their original panic, until a mumble of dread was heard from someone standing near the door.   
“The file…” Jacques said in disbelief, “it's gone.”  
His eyes had widened as he noticed the disappearance of the one thing keeping them in the game.   
The panic that had just dissipated, managed to resurface in a matter of seconds as everyone began searching the ground for the file.   
“Looking for this?” A voice bellowed from the end of the alley.   
A group of sinister looking Villains stood with taunting expressions as their leader, Terrance Olaf Evening, held up the file they so desperately needed.   
“Oh you good-for-nothing slimes! Why don't leave us alone!” Lolita snapped, raising her fist in anger.   
“Ms. Lionne, do try and control yourself. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen now, would we?” Olaf smirked proudly.   
“Don't you understand what you're doing!” One of the younger women yelled from the back, “you could’ve killed us all of it weren't for Ms. Snicket!”  
Olaf’s eyes brightened for a second as he spotted his wife in the crowd, and Kit smiled back at him.   
It wasn't a secret that Kit and Olaf were married. Everyone knew, and most people even tended to forget, but that didn't mean they were okay with it. However, most chose not to comment on it since the others who had, went “missing”, permanently.  
Kit stretched her arms out to her husband like a child wanting to be picked up by its mother.   
“Hi honey, you should come home have dinner with me and the kids!” AngelBaby smiled, a real one this time, in his arms, “I made spaghetti and biscuits.”   
“Anything for you my dear,” he replied deviously, “well, if you all will excuse us, my wife and I have somewhere to be.”  
Beatrice ran to grab Kit’s arm.   
“You're gonna get the file back right?” Beatrice asked quietly, even though it sounded more like a nervous command. She whispered so that even Olaf couldn't hear.   
“Maybe,” Kit said smirking, “if I'm feeling generous.”  
Kit jumped back into her husband’s arms as the smoke from the building seeped through the windows, leaving the alley and the Voda members, once again, in a dark cloud.   
By the time the smoke had cleared, Kit and Olaf were long gone. 

By noon the next morning, the news was filled with reports of another dead Volunteer. It was Franklin Wilson, the bowler-hatted man.   
“Such a shame,” Olaf said listening to the radio, one arm around Kit, “that someone would do such a thing.”  
“I know my dear,” Kit sighed, “what is becoming of our world?”

A girl with pitch black hair and glowing green eyes watched the couple cuddling on the couch from the top of their staircase. She had a feeling her parents would be there a while. She sighed and ran to the roof of their mansion. From the top she could look over all of the city. Cars, buildings, people late for meetings, trees, shops, and animals all ran around on their daily routines. Her eyes stopped, however, on two children, a boy with glasses and a book in his hand and a girl whose hair was tied back with a ribbon, sitting on the steps in front of their house.


	2. A Fly

To Violet Baudelaire, the radio seemed like a broken record these days as it continued to report murder after murder. According to her mother, Beatrice, more and more Volunteers had been dying now than ever before. She was intrigued by how much her parents had been telling her lately. Before, all she knew was that her parents were Volunteers, the good side of the two opposing sides of VFD, which meant they would occasionally be home late, causing dinner to be as well. Aside from that, her parents kept their lives as Volunteers hidden, as best they could, from their children. Unlike the children of other members, Violet and her brother, Klaus, were never brought to any of the Volunteer’s meetings, balls, or banquets. Every time something big and dangerous would happen between the two sides, Violet and Klaus couldn’t help but feel a bit of dread. It always seemed as if something, or someone, was taunting them with the thought that everyone knew something that they didn’t know.

“I swear she’s involved someway, Bertrand, she has to be,” Beatrice said angrily. She had been pacing across the floor while frantically explaining the events of the previous night to her husband, “not only did she drive off with him, but she even allowed him to take the file. It took us 8 years to collect all the contents of that file, and she just lets him waltz right out of there with it!”

“I mean, they are married, my dear,” Bertrand spoke softly in an attempt to calm his wife down, “I don’t know how they do it, but they do. Maybe she didn’t want something like that to hurt the relationship.”

“Bullshit!” Beatrice argued, “I even saw her do that thing where she lifts her head up to talk to Loverboy telepathically! That’s how I know it was planned! Trust me, she didn’t do that just to tell him she loved him...they were plotting! The whole thing doesn’t make sense anyways, what type of married couple can even do that?!”

“One that actually loves each other,” Bertrand grumbled in response, angrily, although not loud enough for his wife to hear him.

“Who are they talking about?” Klaus whispered to his sister as he lifted the spoon of his oatmeal to his mouth.

“Kit and Olaf,” Violet answered, “apparently the Volunteers had been compiling evidence that could get a bunch of Villains locked away for good, but before they could hide it, Olaf and his gang came and stole in.

“What does it have to do with Kit?” Klaus asked.

“Well you know since their married, mom now thinks Kit is the one working with Olaf to kill all those people,” Violet explains.

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Beatrice interrupted, “but I don’t want you two to trouble yourselves with our business, alright? You two deserve the chance to be normal children.”

“I know mom, but we’re not-”

“No buts! We have been dealing with this mess since we were your age, and we don’t want you to deal with it too.”

“We know mom,” Klaus whined, “but we don’t consider ourselves to be normal kids. We like reading about old folklore and solving mysteries, normal kids don’t like that stuff!”

“And we just want you to, at least, let us know what’s going on,” Violet added, “we would love to help! Like, maybe it’s a bigger story than we realize. Heck, it might not even be Olaf and the Villains who are killing everyone-”

“Nonsense!” Beatrice interjected, “see sweetie, this is exactly why you shouldn’t be getting involved. I don’t want you feeding into the conspiracies and lies caused by those awful people. They are out to fool you and any other gullible person they can. That is why we have lost so many good people to the Villains. They have filled their heads up with air and convinced them that they are good people, when they are really evil and manipulative creatures. I know I may sound like I’m being harsh, but I’ve seen it happen. I want to keep you two safe at all costs, okay? So please, for me, stay away from the Villains, especially the Evenings.”

Violet and Klaus exchanged a look before replying, “yes mother.”

The two children grabbed their bags, kissed their parents, and headed out for their walk to school.   
The walk was silent, except for Klaus asking a question as they approached the door of their school building. 

“What about January?” he questioned.

“What do you mean? Its February now,” Violet replied, confused by her brother’s remark.

“No, I meant January Evening, and her other siblings too. You know? Kit and Olaf’s children.” Klaus clarified, “do they count as being Evenings? Because they are technically Snickets too.”

Violet was silent for a moment. She felt a cold shudder run up her spine.  
“Yes, they count as Evenings too, Klaus,” Violet replied, although she didn’t seem so sure, “they live in that large dark house that’s on the corner of Thoreau street. None of the kids, except for January, though it’s usually only to buy coffee, ever come out of that house. They’re even scarier than the Villains that we do see.”

“How do we even know if we never see them,” Klaus argued, “they could-”

“Just leave it alone, okay Klaus?” Violet said nervously, she felt another chill run up her spine and she looked over her shoulder, “besides, it’s not like you were worried about them before mom told us not to talk Villains. Why are you worried now?”

Klaus didn’t say anything, instead giving his sister a look that convinced her that he was hiding something.

Violet decided not to comment on her brother’s silence, instead choosing to push open the door of the school. The hallway was filled with quiet chatter, which the children could tell was about the murder, and the students seemed anxious. Just when it seemed like the mood of the room couldn’t be more unnerving, all conversations silenced when everyone took notice of the Baudelaire children. The other students stared at them, some in shock and others in fear, as they walked slowly towards the crowd.  
“Violet!” a voice called from the group.  
A girl with large bows woven into her short hair hurried over to the two confused children.  
“Elka, what’s going on?” Violet asked nervously as her friend approached, “why is everyone looking at us like that?”  
“Are you going to go?” the voice of a boy asked.   
“Do you think they’re going to kill you?” another voice, this time from a girl, shouted.  
“What are they talking about?” Violet asked Elka with widened eyes.  
Elka rubbed the back of her neck, Violet could tell she was hesitating with her answer.  
“The Evenings are looking for you...” she finally said, sighing.  
Violet was in shock, “What? Why us?!”  
Elka didn’t say anything, instead grabbing Violet’s hand and leading her to her locker.  
A piece of wax paper was stuck to the front, which someone had written on with a red marker. The note read, “COME OVER TODAY, WE NEED YOUR HELP...AND REMEMBER, IF YOU DON’T COME FIND US, WE’LL COME FIND YOU.” - JANUARY.  
Violet paled, but Klaus didn’t seem fazed by it. Violet whispered silently to her brother.  
“You knew about this, didn’t you?”   
Klaus didn’t reply at first, just simply looked at the note.   
“What are you gonna do?” Elka asked, noticing the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them.  
“I saw January in the alley behind the coffee shop,” Klaus finally spoke, ignoring Elka’s question and addressing his sister’s instead, “She asked me if I had any change, and I gave her what was leftover from my bagel. We started talking about the murders. I told her that you and I were piecing together who it might be, and she says she wants to help us.”  
“Why do you have to figure out who it is?” Elka scoffed, “everyone knows it’s Olaf!”  
“She swore to me that it wasn’t!” Klaus defended.  
Violet snatched the note off of her locker and turned to, once again, face the door.   
“We’re going,” she said as she dragged her brother towards the entrance. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on them, looking shocked they were brave enough to do so.  
“We are? Now?!” Klaus said, amazed it hadn’t taken more convincing, since his sister had just suggested they steer clear of the Evening children, right before they had entered the building.  
“Yes, we are,” Violet replied, pushing the door open and jogging back onto the schoolyard. She paused and faced her brother.  
“Look, in my heart I know it would be better to go than not go, but if I wait until school is over, I’ll start to doubt my decision, and from the way that note sounded, that would not turn out well for us.”  
Klaus was shocked by this. All his life, he had known Violet was the type to cower in the face of danger, yet now she seemed ready to jump on the chance to enter the Evening manor. The house that no one ever went into, and whose residents rarely left. Klaus liked this new side of his sister. The two children joined hands and began running down the road.   
“So... what did January say to you exactly?” Violet asked awkwardly.  
“Well...you know how they are,” Klaus explained, “she wanted me and you to help defend her dad.”  
“Okay, yeah. I get that but...why us?” Violet asked, trying to understand, “I mean, we've never even talked to them before.”  
“I know,” Klaus admitted, “but she said she specifically wanted us. And, she mentioned something about mom.”  
Violet stopped in her tracks, “what about mom?” she asked.   
Just as Klaus was about to respond, a crow landed on a nearby lamppost. The children look up and saw they were standing right in front of the manor. The house was, surprisingly, actually quite beautiful. It wasn't the terrifying medieval castle they had been told it was, but something that looked more like Versailles, a palace built for a king.   
The exterior of the house looked inviting, although the windows were dark and uninviting. Klaus looked at his sister, swallowing nervously as she grabbed his hand to lead them to the door. The two children paused for a moment on the doorstep. Violet pushed it open. Stepping quietly in the mansion, the children immediately took notice of the decor. They were standing in a large pastel kitchen, and everything seemed like things someone would find in any mansion. The only feature that seemed to strike the children as odd was the strange darkness that seemed to overtake them as soon as they walked in. Somehow, they couldn’t see anything that wasn’t right in front of them. 

“Um... it’s a lot nicer than I expected,” Violet said, even though it had sounded more like a question, like she was trying to convince herself.

“Yeah,” Klaus agreed in the same awkward tone, “well...Kit’s family does have a pretty big fortune.”

“Yeah,” Violet mumbled, “so couldn’t they have just hire a private detective to do their crime solving for them?”

“We could...but we don’t like to spend money on frivolous things,” a voice taunted from above them, “besides we usually don’t trust outsiders with our business. You should feel special, my deerling.”

The children snapped their heads up in the direction of the voice. On top of the kitchen cabinets sat a line of teens and children, all varying in strangeness, staring down hungrily at Violet and Klaus. Violet gulped nervously, as this had been the first time she had ever seen the Olaf’s children up close.

The one who had spoken was January. She was wearing a long dark dress that complemented her vampirish features. She looked almost identical to her grandmother with her pitch black hair and glowing green eyes. She was pale faced and had blood red lips which were currently contorted up into a crooked smile.

To January’s left sat a girl, who looked a little older than her, with big, bright, frizzy blonde hair that was, barely, being tamed by two large red ribbons. Her eyes were wide as if she were a deer in headlights, and she had bright red lipstick smeared across her lips messily. The girl held a bottle of Vodka in one hand and an oddly slim cigar in the other. Violet had only heard about of this girl before, and this was only due to the quiet teasing she heard from others at school, but she had never seen her up close before. Then again, she had never seen any of Olaf’s children up close before. Nevertheless, she did know the girl’s name, or, what she was assuming was, her nickname, and thought it would be at least cordial to speak.

“H-Hi, Methhead,” Violet stuttered, wanting to be careful with every word she said while she was in this house. 

“Hey there, sweetie!” Methhead greeted, eyes just as wide and seemingly taunting as January’s had been. Her smiled seemed even wider.

Violet desperately wanted to ask if that was her real name, or simply a name nickname given to her due to her tendencies to move suddenly and screech loudly, in addition to her other general uncoordinated behaviors that reminded others of someone under the influence. 

Beside Methhead was a boy, who seemed to fall in the middle of his two sisters, age wise, with sunglasses sitting atop his forehead. He was wearing a leather jacket, which had his name, Ducky, printed on the side, that made him look as if he had jumped right out of Grease. Violet felt less intimidated by him, his face seemed a bit softer and his eyes a bit more welcoming. The longer she looked at him, the more somersaults her stomach seemed to do. She finally blushed and looked away, seeing him smirk out of the corner of her eye afterwards.

There were three others sitting on the cabinets as well. Even from standing a good distance away, Violet could tell each child seemed to something distinct about them. The younger red-headed girl, sitting next to Ducky, had blue angel-like wings sprouting from her back, beside her was a young boy who was well dressed and whose eyes were completely black out, and finally there was a young woman, with bright green hair, who was holding crutches in her lap.

Violet looked around the room frantically, not knowing what to say. 

“What are they doing here?” the winged ginger girl asked. Her voice was as high as a toddler’s, even though she looked as if she were about seven or eight.

“I asked them to come over, Bindi,” January explained to her sister. 

January looked into Violet’s eyes, her green ones glowing with some unreadable emotion. This was the first time Violet noticed that January wasn’t sitting on the cabinet, but levitating slightly above it.

“Aren’t they Beatrice Baudelaire’s kids?” Methhead asked in her deeply “New York accented”, raspy voice.

Violet opened up her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t seem to form the words. Seeing her struggle, her brother quickly answered.

“Y-Yeah we are,” Klaus asked, trying to sound as confident as he could in front of the bizarre children, “January thought w-we could team up to find out who’s killing all those people.”

“Ooh nice!” Methhead slurred, “I love to play a little detective once in a while.”

“Yeah, us too,” Violet spoke softly, having finally mustered up the courage to speak.

Methhead tilted her head, eyes widening, even more than they already were, in interest, and stared at the Baudelaire girl.

“You look like a cow who just went into the slaughter house, sweetie,” Methhead said grinning, “calm down toots, we don’t bite...usually.”

“We wouldn’t even hurt a fly,” January added slowly. She examined her nails which had been fashioned into a perfect point at the top. They looked more like claws.

All the children looked intimidating to Violet. She was scared she’d say one wrong thing and it would be over for her.

“Enough of the chit chat,” Ducky said smirking. He slid off the cabinet and stood on the counter for a moment, before jumping onto the floor, “let’s get this show on the road. I’m excited to do some real police work here.”

“Me too,” Methhead agreed, jumping to the floor herself, “I haven’t been out of the house in ages.”

January didn’t jump. Violet and Klaus watched in amazement as she simply hovered her way down to where they were. January snickered at their reactions.  
“Come on you miserable maggots” she joked, “it’s already ten o'clock and I haven’t eaten.”

The kids, led by January, were heading to the door when they heard a small voice coming from behind them.

Violet felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey you!” Bindi yelled, tapping Violet’s shoulder, “will you get me some ice cream while you’re out? I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“You've never had ice cream before?” Klaus asked in shock.

“No,” Bindi said sighing, “every time I go outside people throw rocks at me.” 

For the first time since she’d gotten there, Violet calmed. She felt bad for the child. 

“Well, I promise you, I’ll bring you some ice cream,” Violet said rubbing the child’s shoulder.

“Really? Yay!” Bindi exclaimed, her small blue wings were flapping in excitement.

Violet smiled at the girl once more before running out of the house to meet up with the others.  
As Violet left the house, she looked across the street. Standing in the dark forest was a tall dark figure staring back at her, it’s large bright blue eyes seemed as if they were looking right through her. She felt her heart begin to race, feeling frozen in that spot with nowhere to go. The figure took a step closer to her and she suddenly felt released from her trance like state. Not looking back she ran as fast as she could to catch up with the others.   
“Are you okay, sis?” Klaus as, noticing how terrified she looked.  
“D-Did you s-see that?” she asked shaking.  
“See what?” Ducky asked.  
“T-That person who was standing in the woods across the street from your house. They looked like they-”  
Violet stopped her sentence when she saw that January’s eyes were now red and glowing, and she had begun to levitate again. She felt as if she were going to faint. January at her, smiling a dark smile. Her lips curled up so far that it looked like the Cheshire cat’s, revealing sharp white teeth.   
“Don’t worry,” January said, her now voice sounding deep and distant, like a demon, “if they come back, I’ll scare them away for you.”

Just like that, January’s face contorted back to normal. Once again she was looking at Violet with those same taunting green eyes. Violet had been spooked so bad that all she could do was look at January and tremble. January began to chuckle, throwing her head back, and turning it into a full on evil laugh. The vampire girl simply began walking down the street into the city. Slowly the others began to follow her. 

Violet was the last one to move.


	3. On A Cold Winter’s Night

Midnight Lane was an odd street. In the daytime, it was the town’s center for business and art. The sidewalks were packed and the streets were filled. On every corner there was a business deal being negotiated, in every other building there was a secret meeting taking place, and in every car was a person secretly wishing he or she had chosen to walk instead. As the sun began to fall, the street became a different story. There wasn't a soul who dared to be out past midnight, for it was said that mysterious people, ones with white hair and skin, and bright glowing eyes, could be seen walking the street. The mysterious figures could be seen only in the reflection of mirrors or windows. The longer someone stared, the larger and more devious they looked. If someone watches for too long, the creatures would take notice and come hurdling at them. Legend has it, that anyone who ever dared to face the people would end up hung, by their necks, from a lamppost on the next street over, conveniently named, Morbid Boulevard. So as Violet found herself walking down said street at 11 o'clock at night, she decided not to think further about her fate. She and her brother had spent the day with January, Methhead, and Ducky, walking around the city and receiving terrified or disgusted looks from strangers. Violet herself, didn't say much, preferring to not slip up and offend the children in any way, however, her brother asked as many questions as his tongue would allow him too without falling off. She was secretly glad that her brother was so open. Throughout the day, she had learned more and more about the siblings. Through her brother's questioning, she learned that January was sixteen and had a love for snakes. Apparently she’d owned over 15 in her lifetime, and once each would die, she would skin them, using the meat for food, and the flesh to add them to a necklace she had made. Violet also figured out, during their many walks through the streets, that January’s ability to levitate was caused by some strange form of telekinesis. This was one of the few times that Violet had actually spoken, asking how January had her powers since, from what she knew, Kit nor Olaf had any themselves. January didn't answer her question directly, since she had a tendency to talk in riddles, and said she wasn't born with them, but she did not gain them either. She looked right at January, eyes turning red again, and said that the more people she scared, the stronger her power would get. Violet knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Ducky seemed to be the most normal out of the children. He, unlike the others, tried to lead Violet into the conversation, occasionally directing statements to her. Even though it wasn't said out loud, Violet had figured out that Ducky was Olaf’s child, but not Kit’s. It wasn’t that hard to tell, his features appeared to favor his father, anyway. Violet trusted him a little more than she trusted January, which made sense since January kept making subtle hints about wanting to kill and eat her, so she tried to walk as close to him as possible. At one point, the two had brushed shoulders, leaving Violet to blush and look away. However, even though she hadn’t felt anything, Violet noticed a burn mark on her arm, in the exact place where they had touched. Ducky must have seen her examining it and explained, in the most hilariously nonchalant way, that he had a regular body temperature of over 200 degrees. 

“He can start a fire in the twinkling of an eye. All he’s gotta do is look at something and the next minute it’ll be up in flames,” January explained, looking oddly happy about the idea of something being destroyed.

Violet jumped as she heard Methhead let out another shrieking sound. Those passing by them on the sidewalk, the ones who weren’t already terrified, moved as far away from the insane blonde as they could. Methhead had, of course, turned out to be the wildcard of the group. Every few minutes she’d let out a high pitched, screech that left Violet jumping every time. Klaus said she reminded him of Tweek from South Park. Methhead, who Ducky said was 18, had a thick accent that sounded like she was, somehow, from both New York and Tennessee. Her wild blonde hair seemed to have a mind of its own, as it sometimes moved around without Methhead touching it, and Violet was sure it had even, once, spoken. This was another one the unfortunate times Violet had chosen to speak up, asking whether Methhead wanted her to help tie the blonde nest of hair down better. Violet had been sure she heard the words, “TOUCH ME AND YOU’RE DEAD, KID!” in a similar deep and demonic tone that January had used when they left the house. However, when she looked, no one’s mouth had moved to say it. Violet’s eyes widened in fear and Methhead turned to give her one of her deranged smiles, which made her look even more insane than she did normally. By the time the eleven “get-to-know-each-other” hours were up, Violet was ready to run home, hide under her covers, and never come out again.

“I-It’s getting late, don’t you think we should call it a night?” Violet asked nervously. 

“Why?!” Methhead asked screaming, then beginning to cackle, “it’s nighttime! This is when all the fun starts.”

“Yeah come on sis, lighten up,” Klaus said, laughing at his own sad attempt at a joke.

Violet rolled her eyes and January chuckled.

“We need to find people who were with Wilson around the time he died,” Ducky said, taking the lead on their investigation.

January turned and pointed to a rather eerie looking building.

“That penthouse is where Wilson used to live with his wife,” she said, “we should go see if she knows anything about where he was that night.”

“It’s almost midnight,” Violet said, “won’t she be asleep?”

“People on Midnight Lane never sleep,” Ducky replied.

“Let’s get going then!” Methhead encouraged. She turned to looked at the Baudelaire girl and chuckled evilly, “unless Violet wants to wait for the Garaloos to come out.”

“No I don’t!” Violet defended, looking over her shoulder in fear, “let’s go then.”

“What’s a Garaloo?” Klaus asked in curiosity.

“Garaloo is the name of the creatures that wander around here at midnight,” Violet explained, nervously, “and I don’t want to be around when they come out, so let’s hurry.”

“Sounds great, but I uh, have to go to the bathroom first,” Klaus said embarrassedly.

“Oh come on!” Violet whined. 

“Don’t worry, babe,” Ducky said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “there’s a barber shop two stores down that looks like it’s still open. Little man can go use the toilet and then we can go.”

Violet didn’t protest. One, because she knew that standing around arguing would only make things worse, and two because Ducky had called her “babe” and she knew she’d stutter if she tried to respond. 

The five children walked into the barber shop, Klaus running quickly to the bathroom, and were greeted by a jolly looking man.

“What can I do for you kids?” he said energetically.

“Oh, nothing sir, my brother had to use the bathroom and every other place is closed at this time,” Violet explained, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh of course not!” the man chimed, “I usually don’t get customers this time of night. Everyone’s in their homes by now, all terrified of those Garaloo creature things. I don’t believe in em’ myself, though. I’m convinced the city made them up in order to keep those loud teens out the streets at night.”

Violet took a look around the shop as the man rambled. It seemed to be the everyday barber shop. There were seven chairs, all seemed to be collecting dust, and a few mirrors. The windows appeared clear even in the darkness that engulfed the street. The only source of light in the shop was a single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling, flickering. 

“Well, I’m Rupert Mann,” the man said smiling and extending his hand out for Violet to shake.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Violet said smiling.

Violet wondered why he hadn’t addressed the Evening children. She turned around to see Ducky and Methhead standing behind her, looking shy. She had forgotten that they rarely ever left the house; interacting with the outside world was new to them. A few feet away was a corner of the shop which the light from the swinging bulb didn’t reach, leaving it pitch black. All that could be seen was a pair of glowing red eyes, like that of a monster, staring back at her. Violet swallowed the scream that wanted to come out. She already knew it was January, as she had seen her eyes turn colors many a time throughout the day, but it still terrified her. It reminded her that she was with the children of the most dangerous criminal in her city. Each of them could, probably, kill her with a twitch of their nose.

“You know your father gets a trim here from time to time,” Rupert said, looking over Violet and smiling at Ducky and Methhead, “he’s a nice fellow.”

“You know our father?” Ducky asked, looking astonished that someone had, so blatantly, admitted to knowing Olaf.

“And you think he’s nice?” January asked, with the same level of astonishment, as she emerged from the corner, eyes back to normal.

“Of course! I don’t got no reason not to,” Rupert said smiling, “he ain’t done nothing to me.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Methhead declared.

“Do you know if a man named Franklin Wilson also got a trim here once?” Violet asked, an idea coming to her head.

“Of course, I know Frankie! Well...knew him,” Rupert said, his merry tone seeming to sadden, “why he was here late yesterday, in fact.”

“He was? Did he seem to be acting different in any way?”

“As a matter of fact, he was. He seemed like he was in a rush the whole time I was shaving him. He kept saying that he had to leave as fast as he could, and he seemed on the edge, like someone was watching him.”

“Yeah, I felt like that earlier, too,” Violet agreed sadly.

“He also kept mumbling things about something that he’d found out. I didn’t hear him clearly, but I know he mentioned he had to hide something before someone came after him,” Rupert added with a frown, “guess he didn’t move fast enough.”

It was then that Klaus, finally, emerged from the bathroom, immediately Violet could tell something was wrong. His eyes were wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

“We have to get out of here now!” he exclaimed, running to hide behind his sister.  
“Klaus, what’s wrong?” Violet asked, confused by her brother’s outburst.

“No time!” Klaus said, pointing to the clock that was on the wall.

Midnight.

“Oh no…” Violet grumbled.

“Don’t worry,” Ducky said, attempting to comfort the children, “all we have to do is get across the street.”

As the children turned to leave, the single light bulb that was lighting the shop, flickered off. A crash was heard behind them.  
Klaus turned around and gasped. Before his eyes, Rupert began to transform into a large scaly creature, like one he’d only seen in Dungeons and Dragons. His teeth grew long and sharp and his hands became sharp menacing claws. His bright yellow eyes glared hungrily at the children.

“Going so soon?!” he screamed, voice sounding even more terrifying than January’s had.

“Garaloo!” Violet screamed.

The five children ran out of the shop into the street, only to find that the rest of Midnight Lane was covered with the same creatures, all varying in shapes and sizes.

Violet screamed and sobbed. Ducky put his arm around her which, in most cases, would have comforted her, but now it barely even fazed her.

“What are we gonna do?!” Klaus asked, screaming, as he dodged the claw of another Garaloo.

“Ducky and Jan, take them across to the penthouse,” Methhead ordered, “I’ll deal with these overgrown slugs.”

Before Violet or Klaus could protest, they were dragged across the street by January and Ducky. The children watched as Methhead carefully untied the red ribbons holding her hair, shoving them into her pocket for safekeeping. Violet watched, in amazement and terror, as Methhead grew to an enormous size, hair becoming like that of Medusa. She herself now had scalelike skin and sharp claws. Lightning struck within the sky, and loud thunder could be heard for miles. The Garaloos paused in horror as they watched the blonde girl grow into an even more menacing monster than they were. Methhead let out a shriek which, with her size, sounded more like a roar. The creatures scattered, running in all different directions and eventually vanishing from sight and sound. Methhead let out one more long roar, before taking the ribbons out of her pocket and tying them over the snakes that sprouted from her head. Instantly, she became as she had been before, hair just as wild, and she casually waltzed over to the four remaining children. 

Violet and Klaus were speechless and chose to just stare at Methhead with widened, confused eyes. Methhead simply chuckled and smiled at them, looking less insane than she had before.

“Come on bambinos,” she said smiling genuinely, “we’ve got a murder to solve.”


	4. V for Volatiles

The penthouse where Franklin Wilson had lived looked like an old gothic, Spanish cathedral. The walls, which were mostly windows, were covered in Renaissance-style painted glass. The rest of the lobby only consisted of two couches, the main help desk, and a collection of statues that seemed to fill up every other unoccupied space. Since it was nighttime everyone, including the doorman, was fast asleep and their rooms. 

“44 floors,” Klaus groaned, “and the elevator is broken.”

“Come on, Klaus,” Violet said, trying to cheer her little brother, “the faster we solve this murder, the faster we’ll get home.”

The two siblings heard a sinister chuckle as they began their walk up the stairs.

“That’s funny,” January said smirking, “you think you’re going home after this.”

Violet felt an odd burst of confidence overtake her and she decided to use it to her advantage.

“Alright, January, what’s your deal?” she challenged. Violet turned to face January so that she was walking backwards up the stairs, in front of the other girl. 

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” January asked, playing dumb and pretending not to know what Violet meant. 

“You know what I mean,” Violet said, “you keep mentioning things about Klaus and I not going home.”

“Your naivety is adorable,” January joked, sarcastically. 

“Come on Jan!” Violet huffed in frustration, “look, all our lives, Klaus and I have felt left out. Our parents are high ranking Volunteers, and yet, we barely know any of what goes on in the organization. I always feel like everyone is laughing at us for not knowing what’s happening.”

“How do you think we feel?” Methhead interjected, “our parents are the highest ranking members of VFD, on BOTH sides, and we are too scared to ever leave the house.”

“Every time we do, people throw things at us,” Ducky added, “they call us Volatiles and tell us to kill ourselves. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, they won’t shoot as us.”

“Oh my god…,” Violet’s eyes widened in horror, “that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s a Volatile?” Klaus asked curiously.   
“It’s a word we use in the organization,” Ducky explained, “it means someone who isn’t a Volunteer or a Villain, someone who hasn’t “chosen” a side yet. But for us it’s because our parents are on two different sides of VFD.”

“Yeah,” Methhead agreed, rolling her wide eyes in disgust, “since mom is a Volunteer and dad is a Villain, they say it makes us “automatic volatiles”...whatever the fuck that means.”

“But why would that make them hate you?” Violet asked, confused, “it’s not like you guys got to choose your parents.

January stopped and looked at Violet. For the first time, her eyes softened and she didn’t look like she was evil, only sad, but also grateful. 

“You’re the only Volunteer that’s ever said that,” she said smiling, a genuine one, “thanks kid.”

Violet smiled back sadly. The children continued silently up the stairs, but not before January made one last comment. 

“There’s no way you’re Beatrice kids.”


	5. Clue

Violet knocked quietly, as not to disturb the slumbering neighbors, on the door to the penthouse suite where Franklin Wilson had once lived. After walking up 44 flights of stairs, the five children were out of breath and exhausted. They all agreed to call it a night after the visit. A loud and annoyed groan was heard from behind the door as footsteps began to approach. The many locks on the door were undone and the children came face to face with the oddest looking woman they’d all ever seen. One of her eyes only opened halfway, her face was covered with large moles, and her teeth, or what she had left of them, were black and seemed to be rotting away.

“Woah there!” Methhead said snickering, “Frankie could’ve done better.”

“Methy, be nice!” Violet scolded, even though it was clear she was trying to hide a smile of her own.

The woman scowled at the children.  
“What do you hooligans want? Don’t you know it’s past midnight? Where are you parents?” the woman snarled.

“Ma’am, we just wanted to know if we could ask you some questions about your husband,” Violet explained.

The woman looked at her, reading her with her eyes to determine whether she believed them. Finally, she let out a sigh.

“Fine, I’ll answer your questions,” she grumbled. She looked over at the Evening children and frowned, “but I’m not letting you three past the living room.! I know who your father is. Your whole family is a bunch of no good criminals and you’re just like em’.

Violet frowned and looked at the Evening siblings who, rather than angry or sad, just looked annoyed, as if they got this reaction from people all the time.

Mrs. Wilson seemed to have a love for the color red. Everything from the chandelier to the flooring was covered in a soft, apple red paint. The only thing that wasn’t red was a large window, which had a clear view of all of Midnight Lane and beyond. Methhead, Ducky, and January sat huddled together by the front door. Klaus wandered the living room while Violet began her questioning.

“When was the last time you saw your husband?” she asked, turning to face the woman.

“Yesterday, but only for a quick second. He ran in the house to grab some briefcase and left without saying anything to me,” the woman grumbled, “probably off to go meet one of his affairs.”

“Why would he need a briefcase to go have an affair?” January asked.

The woman scowled at the girl and simply ignored her questioned, leaving January to roll her eyes again.

“Why would he need a briefcase to go have an affair?” Violet repeated which received her a smile from January.

“I don’t know,” she woman said, nastily, “all week he had been acting weird. He was talking about how some people were gonna get him since he knew something now that he didn’t before. It’s all bull crap if you ask me.”

“Did he say who the people were?” Violet asked.

“No,” the woman answered, “but it was probably those Villains. I bet you it was one of the Evenings too. He probably found out where they were gonna strike next and one of the no-good slimes found him.”

Violet rolled her eyes. It was clear the woman was only saying these things to get under the Evening children’s skin.

“Look ma’am, did he say anything when he came to get the briefcase?” Violet asked, her patience running low.

“He didn’t say anything to me,” she admitted, “but he was muttering something. The only words I caught were, “Kingston”, “revenge”, “framed”, and “Armageddon”. And he also said something about going to go see his buddy, Mitch, who lives on Walden Street.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Violet said, “you’ve been a big help.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” the woman said, gazing sadly out of the window, “he was still a good husband. He’s buried in that cemetery across the street. I think I’ll go visit him in the morning.”

Violet walked to the door and the three Evening children stood up to leave. Lincoln didn’t move right away. He was too busy looking out the window to the cemetery where Mrs. Wilson said her husband had been buried. A figure was standing at the man’s grave, a shovel in hand. Klaus rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. They weren’t. In the dead of night, Kit Snicket could be seen digging up the grave of Franklin Wilson.

“Come on, Klaus,” Violet beckoned to her brother.  
Klaus took one last glance at Kit, before turning to follow his sister out of the apartment.  
——————————————————————  
“Kingston, revenge, framed, and Armageddon,” Violet recited the words that Frank had said, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

The children were already back on the street. The walk down the stairs had been much easier.

“It makes sense to me,” January said. 

“It does?” Violet asked in shock. To her, they had just been four random words with no real relation .

“Of course,” January said, “you don’t get it?”

“Wow, you’re parents really didn’t tell you anything, did they?” Methhead added, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Do you know how the story of VFD goes?” Ducky asked, genuinely wondering just how “in the dark” Violet and Klaus were.

“No,” Violet mumbled, embarrassed by her and her brother’s lack of knowledge about the chaotic world around them.

“Well,” January began, “VFD was founded by three men and their families, the Snickets, the Redders, and the Kingstons.”

“At some point, the Redder family and the Snicket family combined,” Ducky added, “Little Redder married Jacob Snicket-”

“And they are, well were, our mom’s parents,” Methhead clarified.

“Yes, and they had our mom and Jacques and Lemony,” January agreed, “anyways, eventually, the Redder-Snicket family had full control of the Redder organization.”

“No one knows what ever happened to the Kingston family,” Ducky said, “our mom said they all, eventually, became drunks and everyone thought they were shining a bad light on the organization’s clean image.”

“But every now and then,” Methhead began. She had found a flashlight and was holding it up under her chin, like children trying to tell ghost stories during a sleepover, “the Volunteers and Villains will receive mysterious letters from Kingstons, telling them that if they don’t share the fortune they’ve accumulated over the years with them, they’ll start killing off VFD members one by one until they’ve defeated them all.”

Violet stopped in her tracks.

“What?!” Violet yelled, “if you guys already knew that, why are we looking for a killer? It’s clearly the Kingstons!”

“Of course it is,” January said, amused at Violet’s frustration, “but it’s not that easy to find them. Most of them are in hiding and have changed their names so they won’t be found.”

“So the question is, how do we find them?” Violet asked.

“Didn’t the lady say her husband went to go see that Mitch guy after he left?” Methhead reminded them.

“Meth is right,” Ducky said, “we should go talk to him. He was probably the last person to see Frank alive.”

“Klaus, are you alright?” Violet asked her brother worriedly.

He hadn’t said anything since they’d left the penthouse, mentally pondering how to bring up what he’d seen. As soon as he opened his mouth, the rumble of a car engine could be heard from around the corner.

“I-I thought everyone was at home this time of night,” Violet said trembling.

The children shielded their eyes as the headlight from the car came into view. The vehicle rolled up and stopped right by the children. The driver rolled down their window, allowing the children to see the man’s face for the first time. Violet and Klaus’s eyes widened in horror, but the Evening children’s lips all curled into dark smiles.

“Hi Daddy,” Methhead said smirking.


	6. A Rose

If it’s one place Violet never thought she’d end up, it was in the back of a car driven by Olaf Evening. She couldn’t seem to get her hands to stop trembling and she kept her head down in fear of locking eyes with the terrifying man. Despite spending the day the whole day with the Evening children, Violet’s fear had returned and she still found herself waiting to be killed at any second. There was an odd smell coming from the trunk that kept her from relaxing. Klaus kept patting her leg, trying to reassure her that everything would be fine. She knew her fear was only in her head. Despite hearing all the terrifying stories she’d been told by her mother, Olaf didn’t look like a deadly mass-murderer. The man was actually quite handsome, having dark features like January and Ducky, and seemed charming. For the first time, Violet could understand Kit’s attraction to him. 

So far, the conversation in the car had been simple, until Klaus cleared his throat, taking a daring attempt, and spoke directly to   
Olaf.

“What’s it like?” he asked boldly. Violet looked at him with wide eyes.

“It’s not as exciting as you think it is, kid,” Olaf said chuckling. Klaus was surprised he already knew what he was asking.

“Everyday I wake up and realize that I’m putting my family in danger just by being who I am,” Olaf continued.

Violet was in shock. She didn’t see Olaf as begins someone who cared about the wellbeing of others, yet here he was terrified that Kit and his children lived as primary targets for the Villains.

“Don’t you ever feel bad about what you're doing to anyone else?” Violet asked in a rare feeling of boldness. She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth after she realized what she had said, and January snickered at her actions.

“A typical statement Beatrice would make,” Olaf said smiling and rolling his eyes, “I couldn't care less if the world were all bleeding and dying of starvation, as long as my Kit is unharmed, and besides my family has been taking the blame for others people’s actions for as long as we can remember. We’re used to it by now.”

“Darling, don’t embarrass me,” Kit, who had been sitting in the passenger seat silently the whole time, said blushing. Olaf smiled and reached out to grab her hand.

“What do you mean when you say, “your family has been taking the blame for other people’s action?” Violet asked in confusion.

“The Evenings were framed,” January explained.

“Framed? For what? By who?” Klaus asked excitedly. He seemed like he had been waiting for the answer for a long time.

“Woah, one question at a time buddy,” Ducky said chuckling, “back when the organization was first founded, the Evenings were supposedly the big crime bosses behind all the arson and robberies in the city.”

“But, they actually weren’t,” Olaf added, “the Kingstons were. They stole things so they could sell them for money and they continued to work with the fire department, in order to continue to get extra pay checks from the city for stopping the “Evil Evenings”.

“Y-You know about the Kingstons?” Violet asked interestedly. 

“Of course,” Olaf answered with a frown, “they’ve been setting my family up for years. Every time we tell them that we aren’t going to stand for the lies anymore, they start killing family members and Villains allies.”

“So you’ve never actually-” Klaus began, speaking slowly as if he didn’t want to finish his statement.

“Killed anyone,” Olaf finished, “no, I have not. It’s all just for show, and for safety, my dear.

“Wow,” Violet said, her voice distant. It was as if every thing she knew about the organization had been a lie.

“Our mom made it seem like you were this monster that would stop at nothing to end the Volunteers,” Violet said, still in amazement.

“If you’re getting all your information about us from Beatrice Baudelaire , you might as well run into a burning building,” Olaf said, letting out a hearty laugh.

Violet smiled a small smile, knowing how over the top her mother could be at times.

“Okay, so how would we go about finding the Kingstons?” Klaus asked.

“That’ll be difficult,” Olaf explained with a frown, “they are very secretive people. When they communicate it’s usually by letters which, strangely, have no return address. No one knows where any of their meeting places are.”

“Well, people can tell who’s a Volunteer and who’s a Villain just by look at them. Can’t you do that with a Kingston too?” Violet asked.

“You can, but it’s hard to do,” Olaf answered, “Kingston’s have distinct features, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and white hair, but they usually live their lives in disguises. They die their hair dark colors and tan their skin. It’ll be hard to find one that’s not in disguise.”

Violet was silent for a moment. She thought of the creature she had seen in the forest near the evening manor.

“Do you think we’ve ever seen a one before, without knowing?” Klaus asked curiously.

Olaf didn’t reply, just simply let out a long laugh. Violet and Klaus, once again, felt as if someone knew something they didn’t. He turned around to face the children, a wide grin covering his face. 

For the first time since the car ride began, Violet smiled. She felt more relieved than she had all day. She realized she felt comfortable around the Evenings, which was something she never thought would be the case. The car turned the corner onto Walker Parkway, and another gravesite could be seen on the children’s right. Klaus perked up at this, remembering what he had seen earlier. He saw this as his chance and silently hoped that Olaf wouldn’t be angry at him for accusing his wife.

“Um, Ms. Kit, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Klaus asked, sounding shy himself for the first time.

The sound of chewing that was coming from the front seat stopped and the blonde woman wiped her mouth and looked into the rear view mirror at the boy.

“What is it?” she asked, sounding quite menacing herself, all of a sudden.

“While we were at Wilson’s house,” Klaus began, shakily, “ I saw you at his gravesite across the street with a shovel. I’m n-not accusing you of anything, but y-you know, I thought I’d ask, since my mom said you helped steal that f-file at the meeting last night and- ”

Kit interrupted the boy with a low cackling laugh. From in the mirror, the Baudelaire children could see her eyes roll back into her head. They both gulped and looked at each other. Olaf began letting out a deep, dark chuckle of his own, and the Evening children snickered. Violet and Klaus had never felt more unnerved. The boy didn’t know it, but he had triggered something within the woman. 

“You're so small and young,” Kit began, although she sounded dark and distant, as if she were talking to herself rather than the children, “you wake up under your little happy umbrella of lilies and daffodils. Every day is filled with sunshine, stress free sunshine! You get to go to school every day without anyone watching or judging your every move just because of your last name. No one is waiting for someone of your surname to mess up, just so they can condemn you and call you a disgrace to your lineage!”

The Baudelaire children were shaking now. Kit was getting louder and sounding more insane with every word. Her body had began jerking randomly, sometimes hitting up against the sides of the car, as if she had become possessed by an evil spirit. Between sentences she would let out a maniacal laugh. 

“You don’t have to relinquish all parts of your identity,” the woman continued, “and sacrifice your happiness to the purity of your bloodline. Oh, don’t you know a rose by any other name would smell just as sour, and taste just as bloody good! I wish I could tuck you both in at night, kiss and bite your little cheeks, lick up the blood, and tell you that nothing will be okay!”

At the last statement, Kit had unbuckled the seat belt holding her down and climbed up on her knees, turning around to face the children. She smiled a dark smile at them and they screamed. Blood coated Kit’s teeth and dripped messily out of her mouth. She hugged the back of her chair, like a child holding its dearest Teddy Bear close, and stared with large crazy eyes. Despite her yelling, Kit seemed like a little happy child on its way to the carnival. Violet nor Klaus had the courage to say anything, both simply stared at the woman in sheer terror. Olaf chuckled. 

“She eats people,” he sad smiling.

“W-What?” Violet said trembling.

“She’s a cannibal,” Methhead clarified with a smirk. She was pulling her gum out on her finger and twisting it around before putting it back in her mouth. She seemed nonchalant, as if she had seen her mother do this many a time before.

“I was at the gravesite digging him up, so that I could eat him,” Kit said, finally answering Klaus’s question. She reached around and grabbed what she had been eating. It was an arm, a whole human arm. 

“Oh my god…” Violet said in shocked disbelief.

Kit smiled at the disturbed look on the children’s faces. 

“I liked the guy,” Kit continued, examining her nails calmly, as if she hadn’t just had a break with reality, “Frankie was a nice friend and a good agent, not snooty like the others. I don’t eat people alive, you know. I’m not a killer. I just wait until they’ve passed and go dig them up from their underground beds. Sometimes my sweetheart here will take me to the ashes of the burnt houses so that I can snack on the victims. Those are my favorite. They taste so smoky, like fresh barbecue.”

Klaus and Violet exchanged a look.   
“So, when did you discover your love for the taste of human flesh?” Klaus asked casually, as if that was a normal question that he’d ask anyone any day.

Kit let out another one of her insane laughs. She dug her nails into the side of her cheek and dragged them down until blood spouted from her cheek. 

“I used to cut myself when I was younger,” she said, licking the blood from her fingers, “apparently I’m bipolar or some crap like that, the doctors seemed sketchy anyway...but there’s no room for mental illness when you’re a Snicket. I had more work and stress than all the other Voda agents, which, according to my doctor, isn’t all that good for crazy people like me. Cutting myself turned into burning myself which turned eventually turned into biting myself, and eventually other people.”

“That sound normal,” Violet said simply, “I bet there’s some cannibalistic principal like that from Sigmund Freud out there somewhere.”

Kit smiled, raising an eyebrow at the, once terrified, children. Violet and Klaus had discovered that being with the Evenings was a lot more fun if that acted just as crazy as they were. They had begun to like the idea of scaring others for fun and being as weird as they could. It was like the more they were around them, the more free they felt. Their mother never let them embrace this side of themselves.

“I like you kids,” Kit complimented with a grin.

The car turned the corner onto Walden street, which was much livelier than Midnight Lane had been. Olaf pulled up in front of a bright blue apartment complex and unlocked the doors.

“This is where you all will find Mitch. He lives on the basement floor of the West Wing, in apartment 007,” Kit said. Violet decided not to ask how the couple had known that’s where the children needed to go.

“Thank you, Mr and Ms. Evening,” she said kindly.

“You’re the only Volunteer that’s ever called me by my married name,” Kit said happily, “thank you for that.”

The five children hopped out of the car onto the cool, early morning street.

“We’ll call you when we find the murder,” January said to her parents, “I bet your both dying to know who it is too.”

“Oh, we already know who it is,” Olaf said smugly.

The Evening children froze and looked at their parents with shocked expressions.

“You do?!” Methhead screeched, “then what are we out here doing this for?”

“We can’t tell anyone,” Kit explained, “they’d never believe us. No one trusts us. They’d think we were lying in order to protect ourselves. That’s why we want you all to do it. Collect evidence and then, maybe, justice will be served.”

“But mom, they won’t believe us either,” January said, “they treat us like they treat you. We’re outcasts on both sides. We’re Volatiles, and they hate volatiles more than they hate each other!”

“But you’ve never tried,” Olaf said in a comforting tone, “we let you all stay huddled up in the mansion because we don’t want to see you get hurt, but we don’t want you to fear the world. To hell with those who judge you based on your surname. May they all burn. We want you to figure this out on your own because we believe that you can.”

“Your father is right,” Kit said grinning. She reached out and stroked Violet’s arm. “And besides, we still need to finish painting the new bedrooms.”

“What new bedrooms?” Ducky asked in confusion.

The couple simply smiled and started the car again. The car sped away quickly, leaving the five children in a dark cloud of exhaust and confusion.


End file.
